


Morning

by FloreatCastellum



Series: Slice of Life One-Shots [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 13:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19229629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloreatCastellum/pseuds/FloreatCastellum
Summary: Harry and Ginny's first morning living alone together.





	Morning

She was woken by warm, gentle kisses on her shoulder. She didn’t open her eyes for a few moments, she was enjoying the feeling of his lips on her bare skin, this new sensitive spot she didn’t know she had, that sent soft, slow tremors, or maybe ripples, down to the pit of her stomach. 

Her eyes fluttered open, though she was still heavy and warm with sleep, laid out on her front, blinking in mild confusion at the floorboards and chest of drawers that were not her own, nor were they from Gryffindor tower, but the realisation slipped together in her mind easily and happily. 

She stirred, and rolled over with a heavy, contented breath, immediately nose to nose with Harry, without his glasses, his hair even more gloriously rumpled than usual. His green eyes were alert, though from the sound of the birds outside and the slight rumble of London traffic, it must still be early. He looked at her with a kind of gentle, awed excitement, examining her carefully with an intensity she knew was just for her. She could understand why. 

It wasn’t like they hadn’t slept together before, or woken up side by side. It was just that this was the first time they could draw it out. They couldn’t hear her brothers banging around the kitchen or knocking on the door and making crude jokes. They couldn’t hear her mum shouting up the stairs and calling them down for breakfast. They didn’t have to be quiet, or subtle, or anything at all. It was just them, alone in Grimmauld Place.

‘Good morning,’ she whispered, because it was the sort of quiet she felt she didn’t want to break. 

He didn’t answer, just shifted forward and kissed her, carefully rolling her onto her back. Quite without her realising, a humming sort of whimper escaped from her lips against his, and her back naturally arched beneath him. His hand rose, and buried itself in her hair, and she was briefly embarrassed because it was always mad in the morning and obviously he couldn’t run his fingers through it like normal because it was tangled. But he seemed happy to just have it there, deepening the kiss, rolling onto her more as she drew her hands down his back.

And then he was kissing along her jaw, and down her neck, and onto her collar bone, slowly and gently, savouring her, like she was a luxury. Her eyelids fluttered, her breathing came out in sighs, she found her chest feeling like it was being pulled up as she tipped her head further back into the soft white pillows. 

Soon he was at her breast and she was gasping as he caressed and kissed, his tongue flicking over her. She found herself saying his name, very quietly, but it was enough to encourage him - she felt him press against her thighs, the hands that were roaming her body become slightly firmer, though still gentle in their movements. 

He sank lower, kissing down her stomach and his hands sliding down to grasp her hips - his mouth played at the dip there, where the bone created a hollow, and there it stayed while she shuddered and writhed, yet another ticklish spot she hadn’t entirely known about, but in a different way, a way that made her close her eyes and sigh lowly, rather than squeal and wriggle. 

And then lower still and her cry was louder. One of his arms was around her thigh, hugging it to the side of his face, and when she looked down in exhilarated, overwhelmed, dizzying ecstacy, she could just see his eyes looking darkly up at her, watching hungrily as she writhed and tried to stop her hips from bucking, unable to control the noises that rose from her. 

She had never been able to replicate it, those evenings in Gryffindor tower when she had been missing him. She reached down and gripped at his hair; his eyes closed for a few seconds, and then snapped back open again. She found herself unable to stop her body from throwing itself back and gazing blindly up at the ceiling, her world spinning, her chest rising and falling in deep, shuddering breaths, her hands rising to grip at her own hair as she called out his name in a final, relentless cry. 

Then she was left, shuddering and breathless, gulping as he slowed and stopped, before tilting his head and kissing her inner thighs. ‘Morning,’ he said gruffly. 

She gave a spluttered laugh, and rose onto her elbows, looking down at him incredulously. His eyes glinted, and he could try and hide it all he wanted, but she could see him grinning smugly against her thigh. 

‘Oh, I forgot,’ he said. He rolled over and reached over the side of the bed onto the floor, pulling up a mug of coffee and a small plate, upon which was a Danish pastry. ‘I got you breakfast.’ 

She laughed again, raising her eyebrows at his grin. ‘You didn’t forget - you’re so proud of yourself, look at you.’ 

He winked at her. ‘Are you not proud of me?’ 

She sat up against the headboard, accepting the breakfast with a smug smile of her own. ‘I reckon I could get used to living with you,’ she said. 

‘Good,’ he said, watching as she surveyed him mischievously over the edge of her mug. ‘Because we’ve got loads of house viewings today, and it’s too late for you to back out.’


End file.
